Amy's Story Page
“Hey, we’re going on a road trip, wanna come?” Mary asked me offhandedly. “That sound fun, where to?” I reply. “Roswell!” she replies, brimming with excitement. “Mary, you’ve taken 12 trips to Roswell already. Don’t you think 1,506 miles is a long way to drive to see a $5 UFO museum?” “But we haven’t gone with everybody,” she reasoned. “It would be fun if we could all go!” “You’ve taken me, Rachel, Corey, Elyse, Alexis, Theresa, our mom, Rachel’s mom, and a homeless man to see Roswell. There are other places to see!” “Hey, Jared and I had a great time. If we all go then we’ll really get the full experience.” I sighed in frustration. Of all the things to see in the beautiful Southwest, was Roswell really where we wanted to spend our time? “Has everyone else agreed already?” I asked. “Yes.” “Fine, I’ll go, but this is the LAST TIME we go to Roswell. Ever.” ****************************************************************************************** Three months later the trip began. The gang had spent 22 hours in the car, driving in shifts, and had arrived exhausted in Roswell. After spending the night in a crappy motel, they headed to downtown Roswell for the “big event”: paying $5 and collecting an orange sticker each to look at newspaper clippings, alien-themed art and plastic recreations of alien autopsies. We all ambled through, having seen and read each item in the museum before. Suddenly eerie music was playing and there was a whirring sound. Fog began accumulating around our feet. The plastic-and-cardboard ship that was clearly suspended from the ceiling by wires had flashing lights around it, illuminating the plastic alien figures standing around the ship. “My god I can’t believe we spent so much money on gas to see this cheesy, tacky shit-” I started to say. “I think it’s cute,” replied Elyse, ever the diplomat. “Just enjoy it,” Theresa chimed in. Suddenly, there was a deeper, less-cheesy sound. The lights in the museum started flashing, and the teenager at the front desk who had collected our $5 looked legitimately panicked. Before we knew it, something large and metal was crashing through the ceiling, causing all of us (but especially Corey) to shriek at the top of our lungs. The figures and the plastic ship were obliterated with a sickening crunch as a real, live UFO dropped from the ceiling and landed in the middle of the UFO museum. The door dropped and silhouetted in the frame were creatures who actually looked remarkably like the figures they had just demolished. They were there for a split second before getting out of the ship, one by one, and blasting all of the other museum patrons (and the unfortunate teenager-employee) with stun guns. All of the terrestrial Roswell visitors were frozen, their faces contorted in terror. Our group was smooshed together, cowering, waiting for our stun rays so that they could take us all into the ship and probe us anally. The aliens finished stunning every other person in the museum, and inched their way toward us. “Greetings, Farmington friends.” We sat bolt upright in astonishment, causing Rachel and I to knock our heads together. How did they know where we were from? “We have long waited for this chance for all of you to come to us in the only place we can access on Earth.” “See?” Mary yelled, vindicated. The aliens then rolled out a large, thick wall made of a gel-like substance, with two human figures inside. With remarkable strength and quickness, they grabbed James, Adam, Ian and Rachel and put them into the gel, where they seemed to be unable to escape. We realized that the figures already in the gel were Theresa’s mom and Alexis’s mom. “What are you doing??” Corey shouted, reaching for James, who looked terrified in his gel prison. “We need you to complete a quest, which all of you must participate in. We have taken the people each of you care for the most in order to ensure that you finish the tasks we ask of you.” “WAAIIIIT!” Rachel yelled. “How am I in the gel? I’m a member of the original Story Contest group! You can’t write me out of the story by using me as a damsel in distress! I need to be part of the quest!” “In absence of a long-term relationship with a significant other or a strong relationship with her mother, you are our only choice for Mary’s damsel,” replied the head alien, whom we could identify by his hat, which was oddly like Pope Benedict’s. “Pretty sure Mary doesn’t need one,” replied Theresa, reasonably. “What?” the alien said, taken aback. “Yeah, this is pretty much her dream scenario,” agreed Alexis. “She’d do it for the story.” “Is this true?” “Yeah, basically,” shrugged Mary. She seemed much less fazed by the whole situation than the rest of us. “Fine,” sighed Pope Alien. “Release her.” Two henchmen aliens pulled Rachel out of the gel. Rachel grinned and joined the rest of the friend group. “Hey, what the hell! What about the rest of us?” asked James. “I’m a pretty important member of our friend group.” “Not when we were fourteen,” said Rachel sadly. “That’s what matters. We only have a story contest every ten years. Maybe when we’re thirty-four you can be a part of Amy’s story.” Adam looked puzzled, but said nothing. “Amy, what about me? Aren’t I important enough to be a part of the story?” Ian implored. I looked deep into the eyes of the love of my life. “No, Ian. You weren’t an original part of the story group either. Not by a long shot. I’m sorry, my hands are tied.” “That’s bullshit! You’re the author! And just so you know, you’re really over-using this ‘breaking the fourth wall’ thing.” “Alright, what do we have to do, alien overlords?” Corey interrupted impatiently. “Six political revolutionaries have escaped from our home planet and are in hiding on yours. They each possess a skill that makes them terrible adversaries, and they have each stolen a precious item from our National Museum. Your task is to take them on and return our artifacts to us. We have a book with resources at your disposal: the bandits’ likely whereabouts, information about our home planet and home galaxy, as well as cultural information about us.” The alien pope took a large tome from a henchman and presented it to Theresa. “You must hide them, or you will never get your loved ones back.”